Leaving the EU
by V.9.5
Summary: England has a decision to make.
1. Chapter 1

**So I noticed there weren't any stories about Britain leaving the EU... Just to say, I wanted to write an angst fic. Please don't start flaming because there's a political opinion here, it just fit best with this.**

* * *

"Today it was announced that Britain may be leaving the EU. Residents have been asked to vote on this massive decision that will surely impact our entire future..."

England sighed, turning off the TV and putting down the remote. He had not left his house for four days. His usual military attire was discarded in favour of comfy jeans and a shirt. He had masses of tea around him, and was adamantly ignoring his phone, which was on silent, as various countries called him one after the other. The had turned vibrate off as well, so it was silent in the house, save for England's breathing.

Unluckily, he looked at his phone when France was calling him. By reflex, he almost answered it.

 _"Black sheep of Europe! Black sheep of Europe!"_

 _"England, just shut up OK?"_

 _"You're only here because you were an empire."_

 _"What do you want, thick eyebrows?"_

 _"Go get a life!"_

 _"Are you seriously going to eat all of that? Fatso..."_

All of the hateful things the European countries had said to him came back like a fist in the face. He let out a shaky breath, grabbing his duvet and snuggling under it, hoping, rather childishly, it would block out the voices.

 _"Oh my god, he's seeing things again..."_

 _"Old man!"_

 _"Hey wanna hang? Actually no way! Eurgh."_

 _"What relevance do you have in the world anymore, anyway?"_

 _"We don't need you."_

"No, you don't," England said to no one. "But I thought you wanted me." He continued ignoring his phone, taking out some paperwork and starting to read it. He switched a tiny lamp on, smiling as the sheet glowed.

Maybe there were good points to the EU. Maybe it was good for trade, finance, science.

But he hadn't eaten for 3 days. He had nearly bled to death trying to make his eyebrows thinner. He hadn't slept trying to 'get a life'. He hadn't attended any world meetings. He hadn't attended any EU meetings. No one knew where he was. He was becoming isolated again.

But if hurtful comments were the alternative to isolation...

Then maybe leaving the world behind was the best choice.


	2. Chapter 2

"He left!" came a shocked shriek. France stared down at the polls - which had only come in that very morning, and the tiny letter informing the rest of the EU that Britain had indeed abandoned them. Even Norway had turned up, and was gravely staring at the damned piece of paper that had changed Europe. "I can't believe it! He actually went!"

The entire EU, from Austria to Sweden, was milling around discussing this new development. Some were laughing, acting like nothing happened, like an entire country didn't just leave the EU, and others weren't even bothered, and were already wondering who was going to fill the UK's seat. "Oh, maybe it'll be Turkey that comes next! God knows we could use a new face... And less shouting..."

"Hey maybe it's for the better? I mean we don't have to hear him shout at you anymore, right France? He was always holding us back anyway, disagreeing to all the laws.." France nodded dumbly. Not in all his years had he seen Britain just up and leave so quickly. He hadn't even bothered to say goodbye - just sent an awkward-looking official along to begin dismantling his affairs with the EU.

"Angleterre..."

* * *

England, meanwhile, was having a huge blowout with his brothers. "WE VOTED TO LEAVE!"

"I VOTED TO STAY!" screamed Scotland. "I THOUGHT STAYING WITH YOU MEANT I COULD BE PART OF THE EU! THAT'S WHY I STAYED!"

"I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU ENGLAND!" yelled Northern Ireland. "I DIDN'T FIGHT MY TWIN FOR THIS SHIT!"

"WILL YOU LOT SHUT IT!" screamed Wales, who was the only one on England's side. "WHY THE FUCK DO YOU WANT TO STAY IN THAT SHITHOLE?!"

"WHY THE FUCK AM I STAYING IN THIS SHITHOLE?!" screamed Scotland and Northern Ireland.

"Will everyone just calm down!" yelled England. "What are you going to do? We had a majority vote!"

"Looks like the fight for independence begins again," Scotland snapped, leaving the room. Northern Ireland gave England a nasty look, before following.

Wales flinched as England threw something against the wall. "WHY can't they understand this is for the best?!" he shouted, apparently forgetting his brother was still in the room. "The EU wasn't benefitting me - we can still be part of the Single Market and trade and move -" he left the room as well, ranting.

Slowly, Wales got up, walking over to the broken thing on the other side of the room. He felt tears come to his eyes when he saw the tiny heart the UK brothers had given their baby brother. He picked up the broken heart and left as well.

* * *

 **Wow! So we actually did leave... I wanted to stay but I suppose we just have to face it how it is now. I'm so glad people like this story. Again, don't flame because of political opinion, it works best with the story. Thanks to all the favouriters and followers and reviewers!**


	3. Chapter 3

His phone was much quieter now.

England had placed the piece of technology on his coffee table, which was thankfully quiet. Poland had finally stopped calling him and leaving him worried messages, the same with Portugal. The rest of the EU had stopped the day after the polls. He was thankful for that as well. He had a lot to be thankful for. The house was quiet, but he could hear Uni chasing flying mint bunny, presumably for a biscuit, somewhere upstairs, making him smile at their antics. There were soft whispers outside as well, but he ignored them, opting to stay under his blanket and relish the quietness.

He had, for a few minutes, wondered what life would be like for him now - they only held world meetings once every 6 months. EU meetings were held every week for nations, sometimes twice a week. His life had been a rush of getting to the meetings and back, with a load of work in between.

And then there was this.

Was this how the USA felt? So much free time on his hands. He was unsure what to do with it. He tossed the notion from hand to hand, thinking of all things he could do - all the things he would do - now that he had time. He had never felt freer. No prime minister, no work, no stress, just the blessed quietness of his home as he tapped into the thoughts and feelings of his people, becoming one with them again.

He hadn't done that in a long time. Often he felt his people, a murmur next to his heart, but he hadn't tapped into them, been them, for such a long time. He had stopped listening a long time ago.

 _"Dear God, please help my dad find a job so he can pay the mortgage, thank you very much, from Eliza."_

 _"I hope I got good marks on that test!"_

 _"Wow, she's so pretty... But is she a lesbian like me or not?"_

He laughed at that last one, before tapping back into Eliza's life. A teenager was kneeling by her bed, eyes shut, whispering prayers for her dad. England floated through the house, looking at the girl's father. He smiled silently, looking through his job folder and quickly ticking an option, knowing it would best suit the dad. He went back to Eliza, murmuring, "Your wish will be granted, love" and popping out of her existence.

Eliza jumped up, eyes wide. "What the fuck!?" she yelled, making her dad barrel into her room.

"What? What is it?" he cried. Eliza stared at the place England had been floating.

"Nothing dad..." She took the folder from him. "Hey, did you tick this?"

"I don't remember doing so... But it's an interview, eh? Might as well go and see them..." he replied, kissing his daughter. "If I ticked it, it must be for the right reasons..."

He got the job.

* * *

Poland slammed the phone down, screaming. Portugal covered his eyes, scowling at his friend. "Please calm down! I know you're worried, but -"

"Worried? _Worried_? I'M BEYOND WORRIED!" Poland screamed. "I've contacted France, his prime minister, USA, and his president, Britain's own prime minister, Gordon Brown, Tony Blair, the Minister of Defence _and his wife,_ MI6, 7 and 8 and not one flipping person has seen him since he left the EU!"

"It's only been a day, meu querido," Portugal tried to console his friend. Poland ripped the phone from it's holder and threw it at him. "Meu Deus!" He cried, ducking.

"Don't you querido ME!" shrieked Poland. "ONE DAY is all England needs to set his walls back up! ONE DAY is all England needs to go back into isolation! ONE DAY is long enough to announce their retreat from the world! ONE DAY is enough to make him feel worthless, unloved, unwanted -" Poland sank to the ground.

"I care too much about him..."

* * *

 **Thanks to readers! I'm not really sure if North and Scotland should declare independence, as I don't really intend to make them part of the story... But anyway, I figure that Portugal and England would be really good friends because of their alliance (which is the oldest in the world - look it up!) and since England came to Poland's rescue during WW2 they would be quite close. I think Polish is the 3rd or 4th most spoken language in the UK. Those two will be a major part of the story, so get ready! ;)**

 **UPDATE: Thank you SpiralofSilence for correcting my Portuguese... (google translate SUCKS)**

 **meu querido- sweetheart  
Meu Deus! - my god!**


	4. Chapter 4

_"Since leaving the EU, the British pound has dropped in value by an astonishing amount, the money we save will not go to the NHS, and people have learnt we cannot be part of the Single Market without immigration. Now the public is wondering - did we really make the right choice?"_

England sighed, lounging on a chair. The news report was coming from inside 10 Downing Street, where he was currently at, but he wasn't looking at the TV screen, instead flicking through Harry Potter again. David Cameron shifted nervously in front of him. "You don't seem mad at all, sir."

"No, I don't, do I?" he said casually.

"Don't - don't you have anything to say?"

England sighed. "David. You weren't the best prime minister, but you weren't the worst. I can't believe my people re-elected you... But it's been nice bossing you around." He put down the book and wondered if he could take a holiday to the countryside. "I suppose... Compared to the great prime ministers of England, you're a piece of shit... But it's the best we'll get nowadays."

"Just take it," the Queen groaned. "It's the best you're going to get, Mr Cameron."

"Well, thank you," Cameron muttered. "I guess I won't be seeing you again."

"No, you won't." When the former prime minister had left, the Queen turned her glare to England. "What, Lizzy?"

"Can you please take this seriously?"

"I've been serious my whole life," he said coldly, "I'm just taking a break. As soon as I've finished, I'll get my people back on the right track." He stood up. "I'll be seeing you later, Queen," he said, and pushed the protesting old lady out of the room. "Now... About my holiday," he said with glee, rubbing his hands together. "I think I'll head back to the forest!"

* * *

"I bet that bastard's unhappy he left now," Spain smirked as he watched the news report, unaware that at that very moment, England was planning a celebratory holiday. "It's only been a few hours and already the country's in chaos!"

Poland kicked Portugal under the table to stop him from rising up and hitting his brother. Instead, Poland smiled tightly, forcing a laugh as the others laughed as well. Denmark was leaning back on his chair. "Yeah, I'm so glad he's gone." Portugal was beginning to see red. He slowly stood up, giving his fellow nations a very forced smile, before exiting the room. "Hey. Poland, is Portugal OK? He seems kinda angry... So do you, man."

"Yeah, my Polish man! You seem uptight! Don't turn into England," France said.

"I'll go and check on him," smiled Poland, even though inside, she was screaming, _I AM A GIRL! I AM A GIRL! PLEASE DON'T CALL ME A MAN!_ It drove her mad, some days. Poland had never felt comfortable as a boy, so when she realised she was a girl, she had changed and that had been that. England accepted it and changed his pronouns for her.

Germany, however, had not.

It was one of the reasons she hated him so much, and why he had attacked her country, calling her a 'slut' and a 'disgrace to the master race'. Only a few Germanic countries knew of her transgenderism, because secretly, she was afraid - afraid that she would face that type of persecution again. The scars on her legs (which were covered with make-up) had not faded yet from WW2. She knew Germany had been afraid of England's wrath during WW2 to do anything too terrible to her, and she had been reassured that her male friend would run to her rescue the moment he could, but she didn't have that kind of military bond with England anymore. She was not guaranteed protection from any un-accepting countries. She knew England would fight for her in Parliament (and England had last say anyway) but the humans... they would delay, do anything to slow it down, and who knows what could have happened to her by then, especially with the kind of military power places like Russia had?

Russia... Even the name brought bile to her throat. She knew Russia's prime minister was not... accommodating of gays, so how would he treat people like her? Even in countries like England there were still transphobes and homophobes (though they were not a majority, thankfully). Her fear stopped her from 'coming out', but at the same time she wanted to scream it from the rooftops, because she was not a he. SHE WAS NOT A HE!

With wobbly legs, she rested against the wall. She had forgotten about Portugal, instead was trying to hold back her tears and try not to fall over. Portugal tried to sympathise with her, tried to understand and called her 'she' but he had never really understood how she felt. England, although not transgender, had been through so much pain, physical and emotional, he could directly relate to her feeling of being trapped, struggling to breathe and survive. "Please England..."

"I need you now... Where are you?"

* * *

 **Hey everyone! So everything listed here is correct I believe and about the transgenderism (is that what you say? Please tell me) please don't flame about it because I consulted a trans friend of mine and had him read the trans bit. He told me how he felt when he was still 'in the closet' about his transgenderism. If you are trans and feel that I should include something else about it, or are struggling with telling people then you can go to (no spaces):**

 **advocates for youth. org - search transgender in the tiny search bar at the top**

 **gender trust. org. uk**

 **If you're in the US call the trans helpline :(877) 565-8860**

 **Alternatively, if you want to talk to me, I don't really know much about transgenderism but I can try to offer my support and consult my trans friends again (he'll probably kill me because I've pestered him so much now xD)**

 **And remember if you feel in danger from attack after 'coming out' call someone, ANYONE who supports you or the police.**


	5. Chapter 5

Portugal was pissed.

There weren't many instances where he was pissed - he, like his brother, was a happy, bouncy man, who tried to find good in a world that was facing growing evil. He hugged people, constantly annoyed England (but it made the highly-strung blonde smile sometimes - that was worth it), danced and made silly faces to make others laugh and handed out flowers on street corners to make people smile.

But now, Poland was crying in his arms, and he was unable to provide the support England could, only hugging her and hoping that would be enough. Usually he left England to deal with it, while he made some sympathy pie and then ate it (which would earn a whack from England and a laugh from Poland) but Poland was breaking down without her support, England. As he fell further into isolation, he was dragging Poland with him - unknowingly. If England knew what he was doing, how Poland felt, that she, practically his baby sister, was crying and in need, he would come running so fast he would break the speed of light. Portugal scowled at the other countries, radiating a dark aura that told them to _get the fuck away,_ and held on a bit tighter to his trans friend. "Meu querida, we will get England back, I promise."

"But I need him now!"

"We will go now," he consoled her, "Right now. We can board a plane and go straight to England's!"

"You can't - it's the meet-" Turkey fell silent when Portugal shot him a glare. "Eep!"

He took Poland out of the building, bundling her into the car and tapping the driver to go. Whether he liked it or not, England was getting a house call!

* * *

"Huh. That was funny."

"What?"

"Well... Portugal called Poland querida."

"What about it?"

"... Querida is the feminine form..."

Germany froze on hearing Spain and Prussia's casual conversation. He listened carefully, his back turned to them.

"Maybe he made a mistake!"

"In his own language, Prussia?"

"Oh yeah... That's weird."

Germany whirled around, tapping the two on the shoulders. "You! I need you two to head down to the catering and get us our lunch! They've given us the wrong one again!" which was very true, but he had been planning on going down himself. This way though, those two idiots would be distracted a little while longer - long enough for him to contact England, or Portugal and tell them the situation.

He was sorry - truly sorry - for how he had treated Poland during the world wars. She still flinched every time he raised his hand - even if he wasn't close to her. And every time, he felt a little more guilt add to his soul. England was still mad with him as well. If it hadn't been for the unspoken code of conduct between nations, he was pretty sure England would have murdered him at the end of world war 2. That, and Poland's frightened begging had saved his life.

He shook himself. He needed to make it up to her. Even if she would never trust him again, he could at least feel a little better that he had warned them about their casual use of female pronouns in front of the other countries.

* * *

Poland was bawling. Again.

This was the third time she was crying, and Portugal was at the end of his tether. He was glad they were on a private plane and thanked the gods he had thought of it. He hugged her again, murmuring soft words again, trying to soothe her, but it was clear by her crying and his helplessness - she needed England.

He strapped the crying female in as they came to land. Finally, this whole mess would be cleared up, and what a mess it was, only two days after the referendum!


	6. Chapter 6

The silence was overwhelming.

Again, he was hit with that. Eyes wide open, staring at the for once blue skies, as trees and plants gently conversed and swayed in time to invisible music he couldn't hear.

 _"Britain is losing it's significance in the world -"_

 _"NHS is falling apart - "_

 _"Racism becoming more apparent day by day -"_

He blocked out the news headlines which echoed wherever he went. Every time he stepped outside, that's all anyone was talking about. Brexit, Brexit Brexit, in a never ending circle of worry, fear and a nation divided.

Thankfully, there were painkillers to take his mind off that pain. He knew what it was. That awful, sick feeling as bile rises in your throat; the shudder you get as you think of your people; the feeling of being torn apart, unable to choose a side, but wanting the pain to end.

Young vs old.

Liberals vs conservatives.

Love vs hatred.

Family vs family.

It was happening, he knew. Already, riots had happened. People were being stabbed. Chants of and screams of 'fuck the system'. They were rising up - for the better or the worse, he had no idea. The future was foggy, uncertain, but not set in stone. He stared at the too-blue sky.

 _I guess pathetic fallacy doesn't exist then._

* * *

Portugal stepped off the plane, accompanied by Poland. The two looked around at the airport, which was much less crowded now. Less people were coming in - but less were going out too. They glanced at each other as they went through customs.

"And what's your purpose today, love?" a cheerful lady asked, smiling at her.

"I - I'm here to see my big brother," Poland hiccuped.

"I'm merely making sure she doesn't get hurt," Portugal added. He handed over their passports for inspection and clearance.

"Oh, you're British then, love?" the woman said conversationally.

"N-no... I was raised in Poland, and my brother here. Our parents split... But I do like Britain a lot. Much more accepting," she mumbled, talking more about the person than the whole country.

"Accepting, love?"

"Oh... I'd... Rather not talk about it..." She mumbled, arms tighter around her chest. The woman's eyes drifted there, and filled with understanding.

"Well, there you go, dearies - have a lovely stay with your brother!" she said, not mentioning it. Portugal whispered a silent thank-you in her direction, glad that were some people who weren't going nuts in the crazy world.


	7. Chapter 7

_"Foda-se!"_ yelled Portugal, kicking the seemingly indestructible door of England's house. He yelled again, grabbing his foot, hopping around - then promptly fell into a spiky rose bush. _"MERDA! PUTA QUE PARIU!"_

Poland rolled her eyes. "Port, I've got a key," she told him, taking off her necklace and opening it up. She shook the key out into her hand and opened the door.

"You tell me that NOW, _querida?!"_

"Get up," she laughed, already feeling better. Her nose was full of tea, peppermint and soft dewy grass - exactly how England smelt. She wondered deeper into the house, hearing Portugal close the door behind them. "England?"

"ENGLAND!" yelled Portugal. She whacked him on the arm.

"Not so loud, you'll disturb the neighbours!" she hissed, beginning to sneak through the house. It felt like an old super-spy film, like she was James Bond's hot companion looking for the man, who would, presumably, be tied up in the back room. Portugal seemed to have caught on, because he was humming a terrible rendition of the James Bond theme tune which caused Poland to groan.

"Shut up."

"Da da da da!" He sang, then knocked over an expensive looking vase. "Uh oh."

"You're dead, bastard," yelled a voice and suddenly a foot made contact with Portugal's face, narrowly avoiding Poland as she shrieked and ducked. "Anything I do now is legal - Portugal?!" England said, as he rolled over the groaning nation onto his back. Poland stood up, flinging herself at England's back, holding onto him. "Oh, love..."

She felt him pat her hands and she left go of him, punching him in the chest as he turned to face her. "Where have you been?! I've been going out of my mind! You idiot! How dare you abandon me at those meetings!" Now that she knew England was safe, and her initial sadness had faded, she was filled with anger. She screamed and hit his chest again, then pulled back her perfectly manicured hand to do so a third time when he grabbed her wrist and pulled her into a hug.

Instantly, she melted into his arms, feeling safe again. _This is your safe space. This is your safe space. Remember._

"Oh Felicity," he murmured, placing his chin on her head. "I never meant to cause you so much harm. How about a nice cup of tea and we'll talk about it?"

"Fine."

"You're still mad..."

"Hmpf!" Poland was mad, but she was reluctant to leave his warm embrace. England rarely doled out hugs, only when she was particularly upset or stressed. So his hugs were very important to her, both as a sign of affection, and knowing that he hadn't hardened his heart... She was afraid he was closing himself off.

"Argh..." Portugal groaned, face still bleeding. "I think you broke my nose!" he said. England gave him a kick, before pulling him up and leading the two to the sofa.

"Well you shouldn't have broken my vase."

"YOU DID THAT BECAUSE I BROKE A VASE?!"

"And because I thought you were an intruder. But, mainly the vase."

"Argh... Why am I friends with you, you _puta..."_

"How the hell do I know what's going on in that head of yours? After all, it's just liquid." England hurried away before Portugal realised his insult and began yelling profanities at him. He was silenced however, when England dumped an ice pack on his face. Poland had begun giggling, and to her surprise, England started as well, and Portugal (as best he could).

It was mainly to release the tension, and afterwards they fell into a comfortable silence. Poland, noticing England was preoccupied with Portugal's face, got up to answer the door. "Hey! Who's there -"

"Poland? Where's _Angleterre?"_

* * *

 **Hey everyone! How are you all? It's near the end of the hols over in Britain *groan* I have to go and deal with stuffy, caffeinated teachers again... How I long for stuffy, green tea teachers :(**

 **Also I got a guest review so Guest (if that is your name) I know they seem like two weird subjects to tackle at the same time, but who in the fandom is sane anyway? XD Also I was raging when I first started this because my parents kept bad-mouthing trans people (old people amirite) so this mash up came along.**

 **And the whole Poland and trans people thing, I had no idea about. But apparently 95% of Brits are scared of eyebrows so I guess England has a slight problem too ahahaaha XD**

 **The view on the German invasion, I have no idea about either so I'll take your word for it. I don't mean to be offensive and it's not something I'll build on so you can tell your Polish friends to chill :)**

 **Greetings from Britain!**


	8. Chapter 8

Poland's face didn't portray accurately what shock France was feeling right now. He was looking at Poland, who had the remnants of dried tears on her face, and was wearing a pink dress that fell to her knees. "Where's Angleterre?" he repeated. "And... What are you doing here?"

His tone was slightly accusatory, but he couldn't help it. He thought he'd be the one to save England, convince to come back to the EU. He and England always fought, but something deep inside him stirred when he realized he had lost the small island - again, he reminded himself.

Despite being the country of love, he couldn't understand England. He was a grump, always scowling and grumbling, hitting people with books, chairs, anything he could hold in his hand and do bodily harm with, yet sometimes, when he thought no one was looking...

... England looked sad. Unbelievably sad. He was pretty sure he had been the only one to see the faint scars hidden by his eyebrows that was definitely from a razor, and the drop in weight as well - how could you not see it? Yes, he wore the same clothes (which in France's opinion were baggy and too uninteresting) but there was the fact that somehow, England was smaller than usual.

True, England was half a head shorter than France, but somehow he had shrunk, or it had seemed like it anyway. He seemed even shorter than China now. He hadn't attended the G8 meeting that was taking place that very day, claiming sickness, but from the laughter inside the house, he was fine.

And Poland was there. Poland. France knew vaguely that they were close, but not that close. He felt the feeling stir inside of him again. "Is that him?" he asked the other nation, who was looking uncomfortable.

"Er, like yeah. He's inside, - doing stuff." France didn't miss the hesitation.

"Doing what?"

"Recovering from slight economic drops," she replied, tugging her skirt a little lower.

"Oh? I suppose laughing is one of the side effects?" he said critically, folding his arms. He noticed that Poland had a whistle around her neck. _Funny. I thought only girls carried danger whistles..._

Poland seemed to notice, because she tucked it in. "Oh, um, it's a fashion accessory," she explained hurriedly. "And hysteria is one of the side effects of economic drops... So yeah. He's kinda sick, and doesn't want anyone here."

There was another shout of laughter, and then some ice cubes rolled out into the hallway. France raised his eyebrows and Poland rolled her eyes. "He's um... maybe you could call ahead next time?"

"I... I suppose," France muttered, realizing he wasn't going to get in. He stopped, halfway down the path. "Why did you call my prime minister?"

"W-what?" Poland said, caught off guard.

"You called my prime minister after me. Why?"

"I was just... I was panicking about this whole thing, that's all."

France nodded, not completely satisfied, but left anyway. He heard the door click shut behind him. He wasn't sure how close Poland and England were, but it looked like closer than he originally thought. And he was sure - absolutely sure - that hysteria wasn't a side effect, and that had definitely been a danger whistle and Poland wasn't telling him the whole truth about the contact with his prime minister.

The feeling stirred again.

* * *

 **Janalynn could you tell me where the Doctor Who reference is? Because I certainly didn't intend to put one in there... 0.0 But I am British, so Doctor Who is practically ingrained on my brain... and JOHNLOCK And yeah, my friends always scream when they see my eyebrows (they're only like a couple of cm thick JFC!)**

 **Britain out!**


	9. Chapter 9

England was without a prime minister, and he wasn't in any particular hurry to elect a new one, despite Queen Elizabeth's nagging. He closed his eyes against her nagging. "Are you even listening to me?"

He opened an eye. "Yes."

"Don't give me attitude!" she snapped, whacking him with her jewel encrusted handbag. England yelped and fell off his chair. "You need to re-elect a prime minister!"

"But that costs money and time, neither of which I have right now," complained England, "And neither do the people! Besides, the police need more money to clamp down on all this bloody racism - I won't have them getting bold like America's people!"

"America, America! Who cares about them right now! Would you focus!" cried the Queen.

"FINE!" England shouted. "I choose... that guy!" He pointed at Prince William, who froze mid-donut. Harry started snickering, thanking God once again that he wasn't the oldest child.

"You can't choose a royal, for god's sake! Go down to the House of Commons and get the Conservative Party in order!"

"Fine! Fine," and with that he used his nation powers to hop straight into the House of Commons, landing with a BANG in the very middle, stopping all the activity, and causing Mr. Speaker to scream, and his wig to jump a couple inches into the air. "Well, well, well... What do we have here?" England said, feeling the resentment of most of his young people. He immediately felt bad, knowing that it was mostly him and Wales that had voted to leave the EU, but he squashed it down as he turned to face the government where they were... Wait, was that David Cameron hanging from the ceiling?

"I hate politics," David sighed. England waved cheerfully at him, turning to the rest of them.

"Wow, you guys really are falling apart, huh?" England said. "Well whatever. I declare, whoever wins at rock paper scissors will be the new Prime Minister! Best of three! So who's participating?"

There was some silence, then the House of Commons burst into activity as all the Party members began shouting 'rock paper scissors!' at each other. England rolled his eyes, gave David another wave then hopped straight back to the Palace, where Queen Elizabeth was still waiting. "Well? Did you sort it out?"

"They're in the process of electing a new prime minister right now," reassured England.

 _(He had hoped they would get a new prime minister by the end of the day - but some people dropped out because of stress, others were arguing who really won in their game, some demanded a rematch... So by the time everything was sorted, July had rolled around, and Theresa May was prime minister.)_

* * *

France pursed his lips as he stared down at the first drafts England had sent in of the Brexit deals. It wasn't released to the public yet that negotiations had already started, seeing as they were still fighting over who would be the new Prime Minister (France expected England had a long, good talk with his Conservative Party and was wrangling them out for the good of his people) but England had already sent over a list. And the demands... were high.

He sighed and threw the folder across his desk, staring at his president. "You already know we can't accept this," he told him, and the other man nodded. "We can't let the Brexit deal be any better than what England had in the European Union. Otherwise it might convince... some others... to leave as well. Then the whole union would fall apart." An image of Poland on England's doorstep ( _where I should have been,_ France thought a little bitterly) rose to mind.

"So what do you suggest we do?"

"About this? Nothing. We'll pass it on to the rest of the EU and let them steam over it. But," France emphasized. _"It would be understandable_ if there was more security at the French border for British nationals. _It would be understandable_ that more checks would be carried out, now that Britain isn't under EU law anymore. _It would be understandable_ that we are worried of the increased levels of racism spreading through Britain. Surely we don't want that here... Non?"

"Qui, Qui, we don't want that," the president agreed.

 _And so hundreds of British holidaymakers spent hours in traffic queues and airports, struggling to get through security._

* * *

 **Time for chapter notes!**

 **First off, sorry for the absence, I've been swamped with work and screaming at Theresa May through the TV for being such a dictator, emphasis on the 'dic' part. I've also just had to take a mental health break from this story - see the final two paragraphs.**

 **I'm trying to roughly follow a brexit timeline - May wasn't elected until mid-July and she was only put in power because all her opponents dropped out for some reason - girl didn't even have to fight for it. It certainly felt like the entire government was using rock paper scissors for the replacement process.**

 **The second part with the brexit negotiations - it was specifically a French official who said Brexit can't be better than the EU, and the deal should act as an example to other countries who are feathering around being in the EU, one being Poland (not sure that's confirmed, but it works for the plot).**

 **The third part about the blockade: This did actually happen. While I am not a fan of us leaving the EU, I'm kinda upset about this retaliation by the French, especially so early on - we aren't even officially leaving until mid-2019, and this timeline is still in 2017.**

 **Finally: I recognise that Brexit is a touchy topic, and if there are any other people who have a different interpretation of these events, or disagree with me and want to make their voice heard, please do so in the comments/review. I have read your reviews agreeing/disagreeing with my interpretation, and I am GLAD this fanfiction is starting discourse about the topic - we NEED to talk about it, we need to agree/disagree otherwise it will only get worse.**

 **BUT that does not mean calling me a 'brexit whore' and a 'cracker' - those are from some of the lovely guest reviews I had to moderate (and they did not get through). And those were some of the nicer ones - other ones were less pleasant. If anybody decides to be completely biased, if anybody swears or rages at me _or another reviewer_ \- I will not moderate your comments, and if you are logged in, I will report you. I don't agree with Brexit but it's happened, and no amount of swearing and insulting will change that.**

 **And for those of you (because I know you're out there) who do decide to continue to rage at me - yes, I am a patriot, yes that means I want a brilliant Brexit deal, yes that means I am upset at the actions of the rest of Europe. THAT DOES NOT MAKE ME RACIST. THAT DOES NOT MEAN I HATE EUROPE.**

 **OK, rant over. For those of you who are lovely, please please please talk in the reviews, or even DM me - I would love to have a discussion. Alternatively, if you spot anything incorrect, or want to dispute with me about something relating to Brexit, please do that as well - I will check my facts and edit the chapters as necessary.**


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